by Kelly Oram
I about had a heart attack at Ella’s boldness, but Astrid laughed and nodded her head. “She’s right. I was curious about all the buzz, so I went to see The Druid Prince on opening day, and I called Zachary on my way home from the theater to let him know I wanted the Marguerite role. Contracts won’t be signed until next week, but Zachary’s promised me the part is mine, so it looks like you and I will be working together soon.”
I sucked in my first breath in a full minute, and it immediately escaped my lungs in the form of a disbelieving laugh. I tried to speak but couldn’t form any words. My head shook as I attempted to wrap my head around the news. I was going to star in a film directed by Zachary Goldberg opposite Astrid Graves.
“It seems you’ve rendered him speechless,” Ella said. She nudged me playfully.
“Sorry. I’m just…wow. I’m honored. I’ve always wanted the opportunity to work on a serious production, but I never dreamed…” I let out an incredulous laugh, still reeling from my good fortune. “Thank you,” I finally spit out. “For taking a chance on me.”
Astrid shrugged, as if it were no big deal, even though I was sure she knew exactly how big of a deal this was for me. I appreciated her nonchalance. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, surprising me even further. “With Zachary leading the charge, it’s going to be a first-rate production. I’m curious to see what you’ll accomplish when you have some real talent to work with, for once.” Her smile turned conspiratorial. “I suspect you’ll shock the hell out of this town even more than you already have. I’m looking forward to being part of the next Brian Oliver scandal.”
My jaw dropped again, and Ella smirked at me with enough amusement sparkling in her big blue eyes to make me blush. Barely restraining her laughter, she grinned at Astrid. “Being participant to one of Brian’s scandals is an experience, for sure.”
Astrid laughed, but I could tell her amusement was directed at Ella instead of me. I was certain the conversation was about to shift focus to my infamous girlfriend. Though that might normally make me nervous, I was relieved this time just to have the attention off of me. I needed a minute to recover from this conversation.
“Said the woman with quite the impressive scandal of her own,” Astrid teased, throwing Ella’s earlier jest back at her.
Ella laughed and repeated Astrid’s earlier response. “Touché.”
“And speaking of that particular juicy scandal…” Astrid took Ella’s raised brow as permission to continue. “I have two good friends who have been watching us from the bar since the moment I came over here, and they are salivating at the chance to talk to you. Would you mind if I introduce you?”
Ella seemed startled. “They want to talk to me?”
“Yup. Would you mind?”
“I guess not.”
BRIAN
Ella glanced at the couch she was taking up and the lack of room to include more people. When she started to move, I jumped up from my seat and stopped her. “Hang on. You stay put.” I grabbed the end of the couch with Ella’s feet and scooted it back away from the fire to make more space. Once I did, Grammy-winning country music star Carla Wilson and her famous photographer brother Nash joined us, snagging a few nearby chairs and widening our little circle.
After introductions were made, Carla looked Ella over from head to toe. With the way Ella was sitting, her feet were on display and her ankles were exposed. Her close-toed slipper-shoes hid most of the damage to her feet, but some of her scars were still showing. That’s not what Carla was looking at, though; she was checking out Ella’s dress.
“My brother and I have been discussing how beautiful you are all night long,” she finally said to Ella.
“Positively breathtaking,” Nash agreed.
Considering Carla was quite the vision herself and Nash could compete with me in the looks department, the compliment had some punch to it, and Ella blushed. “Thanks.”
“Your dress,” Carla said, scanning Ella head to toe again. “It’s fabulous. It’s like it was made to fit you, both physically and in personality. It’s simplistic in its design and yet both classy and sexy. It shows off just enough while letting you still feel secure, I’d imagine.”
It was a polite way of saying it covered Ella’s scars while not looking like it was trying to. I agreed the dress was brilliant for that very reason. I didn’t mind Ella’s scars at all, but I knew she did, and when I saw her in this dress, and saw the way her entire face beamed, I knew I’d underpaid Glen and Steffan. And I knew I’d never let anyone else make a dress for her ever again.
“It does,” Ella agreed. “I have some very good friends who can work magic with a sewing machine.”
“Magic, indeed. I knew it was an original. It’s too perfect for you.” Carla leaned forward in her chair. “Who are your designers, and do they take other clients? Are they going to do your Oscar dress?”
I smirked. Carla was a cat ready to pounce. I understood her excitement, though; a great dress was powerful in the entertainment industry and hard to come by. And Ella’s dress really was that good. If Glen and Steffan were looking for a career change, this dress was all they needed.
“Oscars?” Ella asked. She whipped her head toward me. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Her panic was cute. “Relax. You’ve got time, and I’m sure Glen and Steffan will be thrilled to make you an Oscar gown.”
“Glen and Steffan,” Carla repeated. “Do they have last names? A business name? A phone number?”
Nash leaned forward, resting a hand on Carla’s knee. “Chill, sis. You’re coming across as desperate.”
Carla huffed, and Nash rolled his eyes as he shot us an apologetic smile. “She ended up on a worst-dressed list after the Grammys last year.”
Astrid, Ella, and I all winced.
“See?” Carla muttered to Nash.
Ella relieved Carla of her misery. “Their last name is Euling. They’re actually costume designers for the TV show Celebrity Dance Off. They make all the dresses for the dancers.”
“Hmm,” Carla said thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen it. Guess I’ll be binge-watching Netflix all day tomorrow.” Her eyes flashed with hope. “Do you think they’d design me a dress for the Grammys?”
Ella shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I don’t know. I know they love their gig, and I don’t think they’ve ever designed anything for a private client before this. But I’d be happy to ask for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” Carla gushed. “Be sure to tell them how much I love your dress, and tell them I’m willing to make it very worth their while.”
Ella laughed. “I’ll do that.”
Ella hadn’t brought a purse, so I pulled my phone from my pocket and had Carla program her number in for me.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, I hope they say yes. I am not being labeled worst-dressed ever again.”
“That’s great, sis; now shut up about the lovely dress,” Nash said, waving her off with his hand. “On to more important things.”
The smile he flashed Ella made me certain I knew where he was going to take this conversation. He was one of the most world-renowned photographers in the business and most known for working with people of interest in creative—often nude—ways. The poor bastard was about to get shut down hard.
“So, Ella, I heard Lindon’s offered you a modeling contract…?”
His voice trailed off into a question. Knowledge of the contract was public; what he was asking was if Ella planned to accept it. Ella snorted right on cue. “Yeah. That’s not going to happen.”
Everyone laughed, but Nash’s grin grew Cheshire. “I was really hoping you’d say that. Forget Lindon and his lingerie. Let me reveal you to the world.”
Even suspecting the offer was coming, it was startling to hear. Nash Wilson didn’t make offers; he accepted them. And at a very high price. Most of the people at this party—A-list status and all—would kill to do a photo shoot with him.
Nash must not have
blabbed his intentions to his sister, because she and Astrid both gasped. “Oh, Nash!” Carla squealed, gripping his arm. “Will you really?”
“If she’ll let me. I’ll even do it for free. I just want to shoot her.”
She squealed again and turned all of her giddy excitement on Ella. “Can you believe it? I was hoping he’d ask you, but I wasn’t sure. I can’t wait to see what he does with you! You’re going to look so amazing!”
“Wait.” Ella took in Astrid’s amazement and Carla’s excitement, then frowned at me before saying, “I don’t understand.” She pointed at Carla. “You, I recognize, and you said he’s your brother…” She looked at Nash. “So…you’re a photographer?”
Nash’s eyebrows flew up, and both Carla and Astrid gasped again. I chuckled at their surprise. Nash seemed to take the lack of recognition in stride. “He’s not just any photographer,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips for another light kiss.
“No,” Astrid agreed. “He’s the photographer. And what he’s offering you is extremely generous.”
Ella looked to me for confirmation, so I nodded. Maybe she wanted more of an answer, but I didn’t want to sway her one way or another. I wanted her to take him up on his offer, but I didn’t want my desire influencing her decision. I didn’t want her doing it if she was going to be uncomfortable.
“He’s the best,” Carla said. “But he’s ridiculously expensive, and he’s beyond snobby about who he’ll photograph. He rejects 99 percent of his requests. This is the offer of a lifetime.”
“No kidding,” Carla said. “He’s never even shot me, and I’m his sister. I’m so jealous right now.”
Nash chuckled and patted Carla’s shoulder. “Ah, sis, you know you can’t take it personally. I can’t shoot just anyone—even if they’re as beautiful as you.”
Carla huffed, but I could tell she was mollified by the compliment.
“Why can’t you accept everyone?” Ella asked. “What makes you decide who to photograph and who not to, if it’s not just about money or beauty?”
“Everything and everyone has beauty in them somewhere. It’s my job to recognize that beauty and enhance it,” Nash said. His voice became earnest as he was overcome with passion. “You see, Ella, I don’t simply take pictures. I’m not a photographer. I am an artist. I create works of art. My subjects are my canvas, and the camera is my paintbrush. I have to feel inspired to take on a project. The camera has to speak to me.”
Ella considered his words and slowly nodded. “That makes sense. But are you really so inspired by me that you’d not only volunteer to take my pictures but do it free of charge?”
“I’m that inspired,” I offered with a suggestive waggle of my brow. “Especially if we’re talking about nude photos.”
“BRIAN!” Ella shrieked. She started to yell some more, but then she balked and snapped her panicked gaze to Nash. “That’s not what we’re talking about, right? You can’t possibly mean a nude photo shoot.”
“I was hoping.” Nash nodded cautiously. “Tastefully done, of course, and only showing as much as you’re comfortable with. What I’d like to do is—”
Ella didn’t let him finish. “No way. That’s worse than asking me to parade around in lingerie.”
Nash sat back, folding his arms over his chest, and frowned deeply at Ella. “What I’m suggesting is nothing even remotely as tacky as that.”
“She didn’t mean to insult you,” I said quickly. “She’s offended by the offer. She was raised very strictly and isn’t used to such a liberal way of life. She probably can’t picture what kind of photographs you’re talking about.”
Ella was perturbed that I’d spoken for her—and she’d yell at me for it later, I had no doubt. But whether she knew it or not, she didn’t want to offend Nash. This opportunity really was special. Even if she didn’t do a nude shoot—which I knew she wouldn’t—after she really thought about it, she’d probably change her mind and take him up on the pictures. I’d try to help her understand later, when we had some time alone to talk about it privately. Once she quit yelling at me, of course.
Nash’s eyes narrowed on me for a moment, but I managed to convince him she meant no harm. His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed. “I’m talking about art, Ella, not pornography.”
“I understand what you mean,” she growled, with a special glare for me. Oh yeah, I was in trouble. “But art or not, I’m not taking any naked pictures. At all. Ever. For anyone.” Chalk up another dirty look for me. “Including you, mister.”
That made everyone smile a little, so I hammed up a frown and pretended to be heartbroken. “Not even just a—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, if you value your life.”
She was getting more annoyed with me by the second, but the others were laughing at us now, which was a good thing. I kissed her hand again, tempted to just lift her up and set her in my lap so that I could kiss more than just her hand. But that wouldn’t go over very well with her mad at me. “Sorry. I’ll behave now. Promise.”
She snorted as if she trusted that promise as much as she’d trust another chance meeting with Erik Clarke.
“Ella, it’s not what you think,” Carla said, coming to her brother’s defense. “He’ll make you the most beautiful woman alive. He has a way of making everything beautiful, so you don’t have to worry about showing a little skin, scars or not. I promise you can trust him to make them look as natural as a dusting of freckles.”
“Not completely nude, then,” Nash negotiated. “I’m sure we could find something you’re comfortable with, but the point is to show the world your scars and let them see how beautiful you still are. It would do no good to cover you up. Not that you don’t look radiant this evening.”
The anger bled from Ella’s face, and insecurity washed over her. She took her hand out of mine and hugged her arms tightly around her while biting her bottom lip. If she weren’t in a dress, she’d be hugging her knees to her chest right now. I hated seeing her that way and hated that the others were witnessing her fear. She probably hated that, too.
“Ella, it’s only an offer,” I murmured, moving from my chair to the edge of the couch. I forced her hands apart and purposely took the scarred one into my hands. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. You know that. Forget Erik Clarke. The bastard lied to you, manipulated you, and then exploited you. No one who knows you will blame you if you can’t share yourself with the world, and anyone else doesn’t matter. You don’t owe anybody anything.”
Ella shut her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were fighting back tears. I brushed my thumbs back and forth over her scarred hand. “I love you, Ellamara. No matter what you end up doing.” My audiobook voice may or may not have been used intentionally. “I know what this means to you, and I know how brave you are just for being here tonight. I know how far you’ve come. Even if you never share yourself with the world, it won’t mean you’re weak, and I’ll never stop being proud of you.”
My softly-spoken words subdued the group around us. I wished this moment could have been private, for Ella’s sake, but at least it made those watching us start to understand how hard this was for her.
When she opened her eyes, they were shiny, but she didn’t cry. She met my gaze, and, with a timid nod, leaned forward to rest her forehead against mine. I smiled encouragingly and couldn’t help sneaking an early kiss, even though it wasn’t twelve yet.
“I’ll promise you one thing, though,” I said when she sat back. Some of the color had returned to her face, though she still looked visibly shaken. “Nash isn’t Erik Clarke. He would never try and trick you into doing something you wouldn’t do otherwise. He’s not asking to take your pictures because he means to exploit you.”
“Of course not,” Nash whispered.
Ella finally glanced up and met the waiting looks of sympathy and encouragement. Carla even had tears in her eyes. She mutely shook her head. Ella eyed Nash and then pinned he
r gaze on her lap as she mumbled, “How can you be so sure? What other reason is there to make such an offer, if not for the fame and publicity or the money selling his pictures would give him?”
“For the art,” Nash replied.
Ella met his eyes again, uncertainty clouded in her own.
“I don’t need the money, Ella. And I’m already one of, if not the most famous, photographers in the world currently. I’ve already got more work than I need. But from the moment I saw you in that cute little yellow dress at The Druid Prince premiere, I’ve wanted nothing but the chance to work with you. You’re a breathtaking woman, and the scars only enhance your beauty. Where others see imperfections, I see uniqueness. I don’t see flaws; I see beautiful distinctions that set you apart from everyone else in the world. I see the miraculous creation that you are.”
Ella swallowed, but she was calming down. I wasn’t surprised. That was a hell of a speech. And because he meant every word of it, his sincerity shone through in spades.
“When I look at you,” Nash whispered, his eyes slipping out of focus as he drifted into thought, “I see a mysterious and beautiful enchantress, much like the very woman you’re named after. My hope is to do a shoot depicting that. I see you in a mist-filled magical forest beside a small brook, surrounded by tiny faerielike creatures. I picture you with flowers in your wild hair and delicate gossamer wings sprouting from your back.”
He reached his hand out to Ella, to the one I still held—her scarred one. “May I?”
Ella sucked in a breath, and I froze, waiting for her to give me any kind of sign that I should intervene. A tense heartbeat of time passed, and then Ella reluctantly placed her shaking hand into his.
He held it for a moment, and then, very slowly, began brushing his fingers over her scarred skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. “So much softer than I imagined.” Without relinquishing her hand, he met her eyes. “If you’d let me, I’d put your skin on display in a beautiful and natural way. Elegant and tasteful. Nothing graphic would show. Maybe just enough of a curve here or there to pose as tempting—like a beautiful water sprite, playful and seductive at the same time, luring in your prey with your overwhelming beauty. I’d use soft mood lighting to even out your skin tones and then pull out the natural color of your striking eyes to give you the appearance of a mythical faerie goddess. I imagine you as the most breathtaking creature that ever existed, and your scars would only enhance your mystique.”